A Diversion in the Plot
by Tinkerbell Faerie 2
Summary: KB.RC in abstract. He wasn’t stupid. He could see this plot coming from a mile away. And no matter how much he wanted this plot to come with a script, he couldn’t write it. It was clear this plot was headed in a direction he wasn’t ready for yet.
1. Plot

**Summary:** He wasn't stupid. He could see this plot coming from a mile away. But this wasn't one of his novels. And no matter how much he wanted this plot to come with a script, he couldn't write it.

**AN:** Just a couple of one-shots, put together in a story form. A little introspective. Third person (with some omniscient observations in parens).

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, so not mine. I can't own Castle... I don't even own my own home.

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**Plot**

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He wasn't stupid. He could see this plot coming from a mile away. But this wasn't one of his novels. This wasn't even one of his short stories (as yet unpublished – unseen by anyone other than Alexis, actually). And no matter how much he wanted this plot to come with a script, he couldn't write it. He didn't know the whole story, didn't understand all the character motivation. He wasn't omniscient and he sure as hell wasn't ready. Not yet.

A plot can be straightforward. It can be complex. It can fragment into multiple storylines which support the main characters. It could have fractures that distract from the main story, but add a bit of humor or danger. It can send you off on a wild goose chase, all the while dropping in clues to the real story. It can completely distract you from the purpose of the story until, _Bam!_, it all ties together, right at the end.

He could tell this plot would be all twisty and turny. There would be surprises along the way, good and bad. Character development (though he seriously hoped he wouldn't actually develop character). Arguments and friendship. Murder, mystery and good old fashioned detective work. But, barring any character death, it was clear this plot was headed in a direction he wasn't ready for yet. Romance. And it was headed there faster than he'd like.

So, he does what any good writer does. He creates diversions. Red herrings, if you will. Obstacles that change the direction of the story, creating new walls to climb and new rivers to forge, and do not allow the reader satisfaction (or himself, if he's being honest). But he's usually not this honest, and he's definitely not this self-aware.

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	2. ChildLike

**Summary:** He wasn't stupid. He could see this plot coming from a mile away. But this wasn't one of his novels. And no matter how much he wanted this plot to come with a script, he couldn't write it.

**Disclaimer: **Do we have to do this? Ok. Castle, et. al., not mine. Le sigh.

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**Child-Like**

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She calls him child-like. The actual phrase was "a nine-year-old on a sugar rush". Not that he minds, because she keeps him young. His constant justification is that she needs to laugh more often. Which she does. He insists. So he sets about doing just that; make her laugh. It's a daily endeavor, because he tries to see her every day. For her sake, of course. It's a good day if he gets her to crack a smile. It's a successful day if he gets her to do the closed-mouthed-I'm-not-laughing-grunt. It's one of the best days when her clear vibrant laugh echoes across the precinct, because that's a day in which he's pulled down a wall or two of hers. That's a day in which he forgets he has walls, and a little bit of her is recorded within him.

But then he forgets to be a child when he has to deal with his own child. Sure Alexis can take care of herself, but she doesn't have to. That's the point. He gives Alexis enough room to make the mistakes, attempt those teenage leaps of faith. He knows that when those mistakes hurt and those leaps have rocky landings, Alexis will come to him. He'll be there.

But his focus isn't 100% _her_ when Alexis is there. And she likes it that way. She's not the center of his (ever moving, and sometimes quite nauseating, but mostly exciting) world, and she can observe him as a man, and not a man-child. It's quite clear he is calmer and almost… _responsible_, and it throws her for a loop. Every time. She forgets he's the annoying, incessant talker who, usually, gets himself into trouble by creating the "better story" rather than following the evidence. She forgets he's only there to write another Nikki Heat novel. She forgets that she is supposed to dislike him, and instead, finds herself studying the father and daughter interaction, a slight smile gracing her lips, watching from afar, as if she'd disturb them if she came any closer. But he catches her eye when he's done conversing with Alexis, and she feels as if she were part of the conversation. She can read every emotion on his face – pride, worry, fear, love – all directed toward Alexis. She knows that, at that moment, he's just a man. But, it's the almost _wistful_ emotion that's directed to her that makes her falter. And he can tell. In that moment, the wall is back up, and he's a child again. (She wonders what the man he keeps so well hidden wishes for.)

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	3. Sparring

**Summary:** He wasn't stupid. He could see this plot coming from a mile away. But this wasn't one of his novels. And no matter how much he wanted this plot to come with a script, he couldn't write it.

**Disclaimer: **You and I both know these characters aren't mine. ANd I mean Really not mine. Or I'd be richer.

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**Sparring**

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They spar. Verbally. Because he's one-hundred-and eight-percent sure she'd kick his ass within fifteen seconds if they did the real sparring thing. Not that he'd mind all that much, really. (She'd be in spandex, right?) But he'd never call it bickering. There's no real fighting. Except that once, and he finally had to man up and apologize. They don't talk about that much.

Problem is: she's smart. She's smarter than anyone he's sparred with before. So he resorts to non-answers and cheap tricks, and he knows they're cheap and doesn't care. Because sometimes, just sometimes, she forgoes the eye roll and actually smiles.

He knows he's smart too, it's just that he is used to being one of the smartest people in the room (aside from Alexis, that girl is going to own the world someday). And he gets bored easily, so being the smart one usually causes him to act up or act out or just plain put on an act. With her, the acting up is part habit and part reaction. She's so damn smart, he doesn't need to be. So instead, he wants to disarm, to get a rise out of her, to break her shell a little bit.

And he's certainly not used to _her_ kind of smart. She listens. She hears. She takes it all in and chews on it. She comes up with a well thought out theory that he hadn't even considered. Most of his ideas are pure conjecture, a "good story". She knows how to approach a witness or a suspect without upsetting them or arising suspicion. That's a skill he's not sure he'll ever have, but he's okay with that. All he really wants to do is help. Though there are cases where he's not sure he's actually a help, just seems to follow her around like a puppy. (Sometimes he is grateful that the mayor holds sway and tells the PD that he has to stay.)

Women he's been interested in before have always been shallow, and focused on his status and wealth. Those seem to be the things that actually irritate her, ironically. (Wait, did he just say he was interested in her? No. No way. Nope… Awww, crap.)

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	4. Personal Space

**AN:** Oh yay! Thank you so much for the reviews! Completely makes my day! You guys are awesome!! I'm trying to use visual interactions between Castle and Kate to come up with the topic of each chapter. If you have any suggestions, I'm open to them. I am pretty darn proud of this one ... enjoy! :)

**Disclaimer: **I'd have had Nathan in the Mal outfit much earlier had these guys been mine.

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**Personal Space**

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When he invades her personal space, she wants to implode. Too many things happen all at once. Every time this happens, she tries to catalogue her feelings but the interactions are usually brief, and brought about by completely different circumstances, that the controlling emotion is never the same.

When they're arguing, he steps closer to her to make his point. It's almost as if he's afraid she'll ignore him if he's not right in front of her. (Like she could ignore him. He's larger than life and even louder than that.) When arguing, they're usually toe to toe, something, she notices, that puts them on equal footing. Her immediate reaction is to step even closer. Assert her own dominance. She's been in this job long enough to know that she must square her shoulders and be prepared to dance with the big boys. She's really pretty good at holding her own. But, not with him. One step closer, and her heart beat becomes erratic. She hates that he can do that to her. She feels the rush of adrenaline, and she can't tell if it's because she's arguing or because she can feel his breath on her face. She wants to make her point, but isn't so worried about winning the fight, because she knows he's just as smart as she is, and it's possible (maybe) that he's got a point too. But in the end, she's just happy to have an equal who challenges her, a partner to help get the job done. But will never admit that, so don't ask.

When he's excited, like when he's figured out the clue or found another way to annoy her, he's usually jumping up and down and prancing around her (not that he'd admit to prancing, but she's keeping that one in her back pocket in case she needs to bring him down a notch or two). Sometimes, she's excited too. His excitement is contagious, but really, she tells herself, it's because they're close to solving the case. (Really.) So she's more animated than usual, and could have perhaps (just one time) grabbed his hand or arm in the excitement. And that one time it happened (or three or four times, but who's counting), she's surprised that the simple act of touching him calms him. His gaze is locked on hers, and he's grinning from ear to ear… but he's standing still, in front of her, with her hand resting on his forearm. She feels like the world melts away, and his only focus is her. Right then is when she wants to hug him and never let go.

When she's trying to get under his skin, trying to prove to him that the world does not, in fact, involve around him, she steps to him. She waits until he's seated (irritatingly, he's usually perched on her desk, feeling pretty damn proud of himself for some reason or another) and she begins her (now) favorite interrogation technique. Ryan calls it 'the shark.' Like she's circling her prey. Absolutely sure she's going to get what she wants, every once and awhile, punctuating a point by bringing her mouth close to his ear and lowering her voice. Like this point she's making is top secret. Trying to provoke a response, get a rise out of him. (She wouldn't be disappointed, either, if she made his blood pressure rise, too.) He learned early, not to turn his head to look at her. He'd tried that once, had been startled at her proximity and almost fell off the desk. And that's how she'd won. That's when the game started. Now, he just keeps his head down, responding when necessary. Thinking through her approach, looking for a hole in her monologue, waiting to break her attack. She knows she's winning when she gets a reaction from him other than a clear, verbal response. Sometimes he mumbles, sometimes she can see the hair on his neck begin to rise, and sometimes he has to shift his position on the desk. The game is who lasts longest. And it's usually her. She has patience when she hunts.

When he's flirting, and she's trying not to, she won't look at him. She studiously avoids eye contact. She keeps her chin down or glances to the side and definitely does not look at his soft face and deep blue eyes. With her eyes downcast, she can see his hand flex or twitch. Like he wants to move it. Like he's just itching to bring it to her chin, and force her gaze to his. (She is NOT wishing this to happen; she's merely coloring her observation with a back story. Oh, god. Now she sounds like him.) Instead, he dips his head, trying to get into her line of sight. She knows this is his next step, so she cleverly avoids it by moving away from him. By changing the subject. But she knows, and he knows, the flirt will come back. When she least expects it. And they'll dance again. Her looking away, him dipping his head to see her face. Every once and awhile (when she's weak, she'll scold herself), she meets his gaze when he does this. His face is impossibly close, and she loses her train of thought. He smirks at her, as if he's gotten one over on her. Her game is hunting, his game is flirting. This is the time when she wants to throttle him.

When it moves beyond flirting, and she's trying to ignore flip in her stomach and the buzz in her ears, she turns her back on him. An obvious dismissal. But he doesn't see that (or chooses not to) and instead steps up behind her, aligning his body to hers, without actually touching her. Drives her crazy. She can barely think, because all she feels is his body heat through her thin shirt, and his warm breath on her neck. (What IS IT with him breathing on her?!) She's focusing her eyes on the report in front of her, trying (not very hard) to ignore the man standing directly behind her. He was close enough that she could just lean back, close her eyes, and … no. (She will NOT entertain that idea.) But, then he speaks. This warm, velvet voice that he saves for occasions like this. She likes to think this voice is just for her, but she's not betting on it. And it doesn't matter what he says, he could be reading the rules for poker to her, it washes over her and she can feel his deep voice reverberating through her body. From head to toe and everywhere in between, she's electrically charged. She does close her eyes, now, and gives over to his voice. This is the moment when she NEVER wants him to stop talking. (She wonders if this is what her mother meant when she said she'd meet someone who'd make her feel like a real woman.) And she sighs. It's a small but sensual sigh, and she knows he hears it. He stops talking, his breath hitching. And she stops breathing, just for a moment, and she begins to realize that maybe, just maybe, he's just as invested as her.

When something's wrong, for either of them, they both know. They have a mutual understanding that there is no such thing as personal space. When a case hits her hard, or his daughter is hurting, and one of them needs it to be just about them for the moment, they know. They sit together, side-by-side, knee-to-knee, shoulder-to-shoulder. Comfort in touch. Words unnecessary. Neither knows that the other wants so much more than this. Neither is brave enough, yet, to try. This is the one time she feels at peace with him in her personal space. There's no agenda. No competition. It's just the two of them. As it should be.

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	5. It's the Cherries

**AN: **So kisses and hugs and love and more hugs to those of you who reviewed!! I'm sooooo flippity happy! I am finding it easier to write from the Kate perspective, but that's probably because (1) I'm a girl and (2) Castle just seems to have no REAL train of thought, he's always going off on a tangent. Which is what I tried to do here. Let me know if it's successful. Couldn't reword it any more. Happy weekend to you!

**Disclaimer: **If they were mine, I wouldn't be publishing here, would I? Yeah, I probably would, let's be honest.

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**It's the Cherries**

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It's not that he'd never noticed it before now. He'd just never NOTICED it before now. The cherries. Were they new? They had to be new. It wasn't like him to miss an important piece of her like that. (Um. The character in the book, not _her_. Yep. Research, this is alllll about research.) But, seriously, when?

He had promised himself he'd give her some room after that... that thing of which they didn't speak. He'd apologized, and then the whole book launch had pissed her off... but they'd both been dreading the end of their partnership, he was sure of it. (It couldn't have been one-sided.) He thought he could read her expression, read her eyes. She'd been hesitant to let him go write that book about that spy. (Hadn't she?) He wasn't so sure, so he'd almost stepped back in, trying to read the situation. But, instead, for once in this partnership, he'd honored her wishes, and remained out of her space. Until now. Until the Cherry Incident. (Because, yes, it was an Incident, and it boggled the mind.) When?

He thought back to the last time he could remember her scent. (Hmmm…) He recalled some kind of vanilla and coffee. Not that she'd be drinking vanilla flavored coffee, because she was above that. That was not true cop coffee, she'd say. Or some such nonsense. When she spoke nonsense, he tried not to listen, but always ended up hearing her anyway. It was like she had a direct line into his brain. (Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars.) And he could hear her, but understanding what she was saying, you know, in between the lines or words or whatever... that took effort. Effort he tried to hide with a goofy grin and some childish antics. That; and the antics usually earned an eye roll. (Eye rolls were worth one point.)

Anyway, the Cherry Incident. It snuck up on him. It was unexpected. And he was just so surprised, he couldn't stop it and he said something stupid. Just blurted it out. Can't take it back. And it's not like he wasn't used to saying stupid things. But that was usually on his terms; full knowledge of what he was saying, when he was saying it. The purpose usually to annoy, or lighten the situation. It seemed that the goofy stupidness had won over Ryan and Esposito. That; and the solve rate for the team. They were friends – or at least friendly. They'd shown up at his Halloween party – even after the Cherry Incident. (Sure, it was a great party, but they'd come, right? That made them friends. It did.)

Sometimes he wonders if Esposito knows. Because, after the Cherry Incident, Esposito had given him a knowing look. As if the Cherry Incident had fully exposed him and his recent realization about her. He still hasn't completely figured out what was going on in his head, but Esposito knew. Esposito _knew_. And how embarrassing would it be if he had to ask what Esposito knew. Because he was sure as hell confused, and Esposito seemed to have it all worked out. (Damnit.)

But the Cherries. He really liked the Cherries. And he's now he catches himself stepping into her personal space just to see if he can catch a whiff. Cherries. He'd been smelling them throughout the Wellsley case. Kept catching him off guard. (Damnit!)

Then – oh, God – then, he'd stuck his foot in his mouth AGAIN, and responded to a witness's question without thinking. Didn't think at all. Just responded. Blurted it out (again). _Not yet. They weren't together – yet._ Seriously. How stupid could he get? He's blaming it on the Cherry Incident. It had him off balance. (Not his fault, at all. It's the _CHERRIES._)

And, a couple days later, he is still trying to figure out exactly what she'd said. He'd been so in his head at the time, that he hadn't really heard her. He knew she'd answered in the negative. Perhaps she'd said Definitely Not. Which does not seem promising. (Sigh.)

And she walks by, briefing Reynolds on the next case, and there it is. Cherries. Dear God, there's going to be another Cherry Incident. And there's nothing he can do to stop it.


End file.
